


someone else's life

by elizabethelizabeth



Category: Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard - Rick Riordan, RIORDAN Rick - Works
Genre: Algus - Freeform, Angst, Birthday, Fluff, He/Him Pronouns for Alex Fierro, Hotel Valhalla, Juvenile Cursing, Kilts, Other, Post-The Ship of the Dead, She/Her Pronouns For Alex Fierro, Underage Smoking, Vignette, chase space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 06:00:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17677769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizabethelizabeth/pseuds/elizabethelizabeth
Summary: “I just realized how stupid of an idea it was. I heard Sam mention your birthday, and then I mentioned it to the kids, who then went nuts about throwing you a surprise seventeenth birthday party. I went along with it because it was a nice idea, they all meant well, but I just now figured out how stupid it is to make a big deal about a birthday for a dead guy. And—why are you laughing?”January 13th, thrice.





	someone else's life

_seventeen_

“That’s a kilt.”

Alex closed the door to his room behind him and began walking down the hall to floor nineteen’s elevator, not stopping to wait and see if Magnus was following, which he was.

“As always, your powers of observation are unparalleled. This is why you were on lookout exactly once while we were in that Jotunheim forest.”

Magnus ignored Alex, instead reiterating, “You’re wearing a kilt.”

Alex grinned, delighted and surprised simultaneously. “How do you know it’s not just a regular skirt?”

“Because you’re a guy today.”

Every day, Magnus knew. Without asking, without a hint of intuition or knowledge, he knew.

Alex tried not to let the surprise show in his voice. “Could still be a skirt. Very binary of you to assume that only men wear kilts.”

Magnus shook his head. “My mom and I stumbled on a Scottish festival once while we were hiking in Mount Holyoke. Took a wrong turn, came around a bend, _bam_. Kilts as far as the eye could see.” Magnus finally returned Alex’s grin, mischievously. “Now, none of those kilts were lime green, but it’s hard to forget what they look like when you’ve seen five hundred at once. “

Alex laughed out loud at that, the imagery coming unbidden. Young Magnus, eyes wide with shock and level with five hundred kilts. “Mount Holyoke, eh? Strong winds up there.”

Magnus shuddered, suddenly very serious. “I’m aware.”

Alex had to stop in front of the elevator to laugh, doubled over, his voice loud in the quiet corridor. In his periphery was Magnus, smiling again, obviously pleased with himself at Alex’s reaction. The elevator opened, and one of their hall mates gave them both a wary look while trading places. Alex only stopped laughing around floor ten, breathing heavily. “How have I never heard this story?”

“Can’t have you knowing everything about me, Fierro. I’ve got an entire lifetime of stories to spread out for a while.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Who is this suave, mysterious man, and what has he done with my Magnus Chase?”

Magnus blushed, which was a very Magnus thing to do, and the earth tilted back into its rightful axis. He cleared his throat, finally asking, “Where are we going?”

“Chase Space.” Alex’s expression added the obvious _idiot_. “We’re making Christmas cookies with the kids.”

There was a beat before Magnus pointed out, “It’s January.”

“Even in death, the mighty warrior can master the Gregorian calendar.”

“Ha ha. We’re a bit late for Christmas cookies, still. Or, early, depending on how you look at it.”

“We promised everyone a Christmas cookie party, remember? After the oven exploded?”

The oven didn’t explode, per se. It just… violently stopped working. And started smoking profusely.

The elevator opened to the lobby of Hotel Valhalla, and Alex and Magnus made their way towards the entrance, which let them out onto Beacon Street. The walk from the hotel to his uncle’s brownstone wasn’t short, but it was doable. The January cold didn’t bother Magnus, but he wore a coat if only to avoid odd looks from passerby. Though, from previous experience with oblivious mortals, they most likely wouldn’t have noticed.

Alex’s aforementioned lime green kilt was fashioned with combat boots and a muted pink sweater, naturally, though he also wore a black coat over the whole ensemble.

“It looks good on you.”

“I swear to every god, Maggie, the non-sequiturs have got to stop.”

“The kilt. It looks good. On you. You look good in a kilt.”

“Well, duh.” Alex’s voice was confident, but Magnus could just see pink forming on his cheeks.

Alex suddenly stopped walking. Magnus didn’t register immediately, and he was a few steps ahead of Alex before turning to face him, concerned and questioning. “Everything okay?”

A memory from Niflheim came unbidden—Alex’s sudden stop, her heterochromatic eyes wide, the unexpected kiss.

“It’s a surprise.”

“Now who’s resorting to non-sequiturs?”

Alex shook his head. “It’s not a Christmas cookie party. It’s a surprise party for your birthday.”

Magnus blinked. “That’s today?”

Alex ignored Magnus and kept rambling. “I just realized how stupid of an idea it was. I heard Sam mention your birthday, and then I mentioned it to the kids, who then went nuts about throwing you a surprise seventeenth birthday party. I went along with it because it was a nice idea, they all meant well, but I just now figured out how _stupid_ it is to make a big deal about a birthday for a dead guy. And—why are you laughing?”

Magnus, in actuality, was trying to keep the laughter hidden behind his hands, but apparently couldn’t hide the mirth from his eyes. It felt nice to have the tables turn suddenly, Alex rambling near incoherently, and Magnus just enjoying the show. He couldn’t help but enjoy being on the opposite end of the awkward spectrum.

Alex’s blush was in full force now. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up Chase. This’ll be the last time I do something nice for you.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Yeah, it is. I’m great at gift-giving. And at party-planning. You’re missing out.”

Magnus shrugged, stepping forward. He took an initiative, holding Alex’s hand in his own. Another memory, _you’re warm and summery_ , Alex burrowing close in another winter’s air, in what felt like another life.

Magnus waited until Alex’s eyes met his before asking, “Is there going to be cake?”

Alex snorted. “Yes. Sophisticated assholes wanted to spring to get you a cake from that place on Washington.”

“Athan’s?”

“Yep.”

“That’s sweet.”

“And fucking expensive! We ended up getting you one from Star Market instead. They spelled your name wrong.”

Magnus finally did laugh. It was infectious, and Alex couldn't help himself but join in, their breath mingling in the frigid air, made visible by the sun.

Alex sighed. “Anyway. It’s stupid.”

“Not that stupid.” Magnus began to walk again, waiting for Alex to drop his hand. He didn’t though, and they continued on to the brownstone. The grin hadn’t left Magnus’ face. He had one more question. “Did you get me a present?”

“In your dreams, nerd.”

\--

Time moved slowly for immortals. When eternity stretched on forever, there was no need to rush. With all the urgency and adrenaline of last year behind him, Magnus wasn’t going to push Alex to do anything he wasn’t comfortable with.  

 _I’ll think about it_ , Alex had said, his hands framing Magnus’ sticky cheeks, amusement in his eyes as Magnus mentally processed what the heck just happened.

So, Magnus let Alex think.

The time after, in leisure of routine and the lack of world-ending calamities, they now had all the time in the world to figure everything out, figure Magnus-and-Alex out, whatever that meant.

It meant a lot, as a matter of fact.

They walked down Beacon Street, holding hands in January frost, fingers interlaced up until they reached the steps of the brownstone. Alex squeezed Magnus’ hand before letting go, and he was the most enthusiastic when singing to Magnus’ birthday with the other kids, later in the night.

They formed an alliance during one practice battle at the hotel, Alex entrusting Magnus with an end of her garrote, and the two of them halved a good dozen opponents red-rover style. Magnus had just enough time to see Alex’s look of admiration before being unceremoniously crushed by a boulder.

They got falafel with the rest of the gang, because of course they did. Alex insisted on sitting across the table, which Magnus pouted at and was teased for mercilessly. Alex winked at Magnus, apropos of nothing, a slice of pita halfway into his mouth, and Magnus didn’t think of much else for the rest of the meal.

They kissed in the doorway of Alex’s room, Alex pressed up against the door jamb, her arms looped around Magnus’ neck, and Magnus was weak, finding it hard to breathe. He wondered if every kiss would leave him feeling slain and resurrected in alternating moments, or if it was just Alex Fierro’s kiss that did it. She tasted like citrus even still. Magnus felt rather than heard her breathing heavily, her ribcage flush against his own. It was only when they were completely intertwined that she pulled away. Magnus let her. He ached with the effort of it, but he let her go.

\--

_eighteen_

“I’m about to do something kinda stupid.”

“Mags, I know you’re saying that because you think it’s a surprise, but I promise you it’s not.”

Magnus was in his office. Well, pseudo-office, really. He commandeered a closet a few months into the Chase Space’s existence to fill out some extra forms away from the chaos. Over time, the closet had acquired a desk and lamp, and Magnus now spent an increasing amount of time in there with bureaucratic paperwork. Samirah once asked why he didn’t let the horde of Odin’s lawyers take care of everything, like they had when the space was created. Magnus didn’t have an answer at first. He was only filling out the first form for some extra funding from the city, and Magnus was tired of waiting on the lawyers to get back to him (their words, not his). Over time, the legal jargon had stopped swimming in front of his eyes. Magnus was now proficiently handling the monetary ins and outs of the Chase Space and spending an increasing amount of time in his office as a result. One of the many things in Magnus’ life that he hadn’t seen coming: running a non-profit youth shelter. It fit in well among the living for eternity and owning a talking sword.

Magnus forced his tired eyes to focus on Alex, who was standing in the doorway of his closet/office, a book under her arm.

Magnus sighed. “One of the kids started dealing. Found the stash under one of the beds.”

“Marya?”

Magnus nodded.

“Shit.”

Magnus nodded again.

Alex closed the closet/office door behind her, deciding to lean against that instead. “That’s her second strike.”

“I know. And she knows, too.”

There were simple rules the kids had to live by in the Chase Space: no bigotry, no drugs, and no peanuts (Terrence had an allergy, and Magnus found out the hard way that peanut allergies were airborne).  

Alex nodded in the direction of the Ziploc bag on Magnus’ desk. “Are those the goods?”

Magnus nodded once again. He suddenly found himself exhausted by… everything, really. Running the Space, his life at Hotel Valhalla, running errands for minor deities every now and again. Add this to the list of things Magnus never thought he’d be doing: reprimanding his peers for peddling drugs in the homeless youth shelter that he ran.

Magnus sagged, cradling his head in his crossed arms. “I think I want to smoke it.”

Alex laughed. Magnus was a little offended, but realized she wasn’t laughing to hurt, but out of surprise. “That’s your stupid idea?”

“Yes. I know that it’s irresponsible and hypocritical and—”

“Can I join you?”

Magnus shot up. “What?”

“Well, not now, obviously.” Alex held up the book, and Magnus could see that it was _Harry Potter_. The one with the green cover. “I promised I would read the last four chapters tonight. Dumbledore’s about to die and they’re all going to freak.”

“We watched the movie in November, though?”

“Yeah, but they’re still going to freak. It’ll be awesome.”

“I’m concerned about how much you’re excited about this.”

Alex ignored the comment. “Blitz and Hearth left some pasta for you in the fridge since you missed dinner. Eat, then I’ll meet you in here. I’ll read fast.”

Alex was gone before Magnus could decide if he wanted to protest. Ultimately, he didn’t.

He ate cold pasta from Tupperware and laughed as he heard the shocked uproar at Dumbledore’s death.

He didn’t remember falling asleep at his desk, only that Alex shook him awake softly. “Wake up, Magpie. We’ve got deviances to commit.”

“That’s not a saying,” Magnus mumbled. He stayed snuggled in his arms while Alex opened the window behind him, letting in a blast of dry January air. There hadn’t been any snow that season, but the cold was still bitter and a small shock to Magnus’ system, even by Vanir-child standards.

“If anyone asks, we’re adults and we do what we want, but I’d still rather not have the kids knowing how naughty we are.”

Magnus didn’t answer. He lifted his head as Alex sat on a chair in front of his desk. She must’ve brought one from the kitchen, fitting it between a filing cabinet and a pile of winter coats. She produced a short stack of small, square, white papers from her pocket, miraculously not crumpled. She probably pilfered them from one of the kids, Magnus thought. Magnus watched in impressed silence as she deftly measured and poured the cannabis from the Ziploc bag into two sheets. One by one, she quickly rolled, licked the edge to seal, and placed the pseudo-cigarettes between the two of them. Magnus’ eyes had widened more and more throughout the process, and he stared at Alex. “How—”

“Got into a bad crowd when I was still in school. Teenage rebellion plus gender identity crisis was a stellar combo.” She shrugged. “I still keep in touch with one of my dealer friends as well.”

Magnus hesitated. “This is probably a weird thing to say.”

“It probably is.”

“But that was incredibly hot.”

Alex opened her mouth to speak, didn’t, closed her mouth, then smirked. “Wow, okay Chase. Way to make a girl…” Alex faltered, blushed. She grabbed one of the blunts and produced a lighter from her other pocket. “Smoke the fucking weed, dude.”

Magnus grinned. He waited patiently as Alex lit up, and she waited (less patiently) as Magnus did the same. Silently, they took the first drag together.

And immediately regretted it.

“Fucking—” Magnus coughed. “ _What_?”

“Damnit Marya!” Alex was doubled over Magnus’ desk, gasping. “Shit’s fucking synthetic! Weed is legal in Massachusetts, why would you even—” She was overtaken by another coughing fit before she could finish the thought.

“This is how I die.” Magnus lost the use of his right lung. Or, at least, that’s what it felt like. “Bad weed.”

“Damnit.” Alex repeated. Her coughing had stopped, but her voice was still extra raspy. “Now I’ve got to get you a real birthday present.” She looked up from the desk. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

Magnus hacked in response. “Here lies eighteen-year-old Magnus Chase. Twice dead, once morally corrupted by Alex Fierro, bearer of contaminated weed—”

“You’re the one who wanted to smoke it, you jerk!” Alex was laughing, coughing, laughing again. “We’re not even going to get high from this, that’s the worst part.”

“ _That’s_ the worst part?”

“I have priorities, Maggie.”

\--

Magnus fell asleep next to Alex on the floor of his closet/office.

Magnus held Alex’s hands any chance he could get.

Magnus danced with Alex at Samirah and Amir’s wedding.

Magnus stood next to Alex at Boston Pride.

Magnus read while Alex worked, the wheel’s mechanisms easy white noise in their calm. Magnus snuck glances in Alex’s direction, watching the curve of his shoulders move in practiced motion as Alex created something Magnus would only recognize when Alex allowed. Alex didn’t like prying eyes over his shoulders. To anyone else, he would say he preferred to work alone, but Magnus didn’t seem to count. Or, more accurately, Magnus was the exception. Before he’d let his eyes wander any more, Magnus looked back to his book. The white noise stopped after a while, but Magnus didn’t notice. He only looked up when wet clay hit porcelain, shattering a vase Alex had finished months ago. Alex stood, shoulders hunched, and wouldn’t look at Magnus as he demanded he leave, expletives peppering the harsh words. Magnus noticed Alex’s voice, damp, soaking with an emotion he couldn’t immediately identify. When he tried to argue, Alex repeated himself, and wouldn’t look as Magnus finally left.

Magnus woke to a knock on his door, and Alex was there. Magnus didn’t didn’t say anything, and didn’t have to as he led Alex inside. The two of them fell asleep like that: silent, Alex’s arms around Magnus’ waist only allowed by the darkness. The earlier afternoon wasn't mentioned, but Magnus could faintly hear Alex's apology, muffled and insistent, before sleep could fully take them. Magnus knew things would be better in the morning, but wished that things were better now.

\--

_nineteen_

Alex tugged at the back of Magnus’ shirt, gently. Magnus might not have noticed in the mania of dinner in Hotel Valhalla, but he wasn’t really paying attention to his table’s conversation anyway. Something about kill ratios between weapons; Halfborn, Mallory, T.J., and a half dozen of their hall mates all arguing loudly, their voices overlapping.

Magnus looked at Alex, who only stood and jerked his head towards the door in response. His expression was a combination of a question and a demand. Not necessarily in that order. _Follow me. Please?_

Magnus stood, and followed Alex out of the hall.

When the din of dinner had died down behind them as they left, Alex reached behind his back, toward Magnus, capturing Magnus’ hand. A simple gesture, one done without thought. Habitual. Magnus smiled.

He didn’t notice until it was too late that Alex had led them towards the stairs instead of the elevator. Magnus wasn’t fond of the stairs. He’d had the unfortunate luck of having to climb them once to floor nineteen when the elevators had supposedly broken down. Magnus hesitated only a moment before being dragged up the stairwell, still holding onto Alex. Like Helheim was he letting go.

To Magnus’ surprise, Alex stopped at the third floor, pushing open a door, and they were suddenly on the roof of Hotel Valhalla.

“The hotel never fails to surprise.”

Indeed, it hadn’t. Even three years after his death, Magnus was still discovering new aspects of his afterlife abode.

Magnus frowned at the surroundings as Alex led the two of them to the edge of the rooftop, which looked down on Beacon Street. Below, headlights from passing cars illuminated the snow covering the sidewalks. It was late enough that pedestrians hadn’t totally ruined the scene. “How are we even here? Doesn’t the Hotel have, like, five thousand floors?”

“I think it’s something to do with glamour?” Alex shrugged. “I don’t really care.”

Alex was stalling, and Magnus was letting him stall.

“Why’d you bring me out here?”

Alex shrugged again, turning his back to the view and leaning against the rampart. “Needed some air.”

“There’s air inside.”

“Fresh air.”

“With Boston pollution?”

“Magnus,” Magnus watched as Alex swallowed his irritation. At any other time, Alex would have demanded silence from Magnus, thickening the ebb and flow of tension between them. Or maybe he wouldn’t have. It was difficult to imagine that time now—earlier, years ago, their clamshell hearts closing up when someone got too close. Now, their lives were so thoroughly intertwined that it was impossible to hide that fear: that ever-insistent and unspoken fear that this closeness would be their end long before any apocalypse could take them. “Give me a second, okay?”

So Magnus kept silent, waiting for Alex to elaborate. He didn’t, at first. He stayed quiet in the tense winter air, and Magnus kept on waiting. Magnus would wait for an eternity, if he had to. Alex was worth it, and they both had the luxury of time.

Alex huffed, frustrated, as if he knew he wouldn’t get the correct words out. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

Magnus opened his mouth, and Alex interrupted with, “I already know you’re going to make the ‘on the roof?’ joke. Your sarcasm is neither original nor appreciated.”

“I humbly beg to differ. I’m hilarious.”

“It’s a good thing I like you. Otherwise, I think I’d kill you every day for your assholery.”

“Is that a word?”

“It is now.” Alex turned around, and Magnus had a moment to take in the view. They both looked out at the mix of rooftops and windows, staggered buildings closing them in. It reminded Magnus of drinking guava juice with Alex on the brownstone’s roof, years ago now—a slow moment before a quest. The slow moments were Magnus’ favorite.

“I genuinely thought I’d be on the streets forever, but I wanted so badly to become a professional artist. Maybe go to art school, rack up some student debt, sell my work.” Alex didn’t look at Magnus as he spoke. “I was barely surviving after I finally left my dad’s house, and all I could think about was that future. And then...” Alex gestured around him, “this happened,” and Magnus knew that _this_ was everything the past three years had offered: Valhalla, their unconventional afterlife, Samirah, Magnus, a wedding gone wrong, the Ship of the Dead, a desperate, near-death kiss, and an unconventional closeness between the two of them that didn’t have a name.

“I tried to fool myself into thinking I didn’t care. I should be grateful to be alive, to have a life here. I’m fed, well-rested, immortal under specific circumstances, and you're here, and…” Alex trailed off, and Magnus let the silence envelop them. He wanted Alex to have the time to articulate. If it were anyone else, Magnus would’ve had trouble following. Not so with Alex Fierro.

“All I ever wanted was to grow up. Now, I don’t even get the luxury of regretting wanting to grow up.” Alex laughed, partly genuine and partly bitter. “It’s your birthday today, but it’s not really. You’re not really nineteen, and neither am I, because we’ll both be sixteen until Ragnarok.” Alex, always composed and guarded, buried his face in his hands and wiped away angry tears. “It’s fucking bullshit.”

“Yeah, it is.”

Alex laughed again, and it was more sincere this time. “What’s your secret, Chase? To stay sane in this place?”

“Nihilism.”

Alex’s laugh echoed on Valhalla’s rooftop, which defied a few laws of physics, but Magnus couldn’t be sure. He smiled at Alex’s mirth, drawn in, magnetized to Alex’s emotions, and immediately noticed when his laughter turned to shaking on the verge of more angry tears. At another time, in someone else’s life, Magnus would have let alone. Instead, hesitantly, he asked “Can I—”

But he didn’t need to ask. Alex turned, bowing his head into Magnus’ shoulder, fingers holding tightly into the cotton of Magnus’ shirt, demands and questions implicit in the motion. _Hold on to me. Please?_

Magnus did. One hand in Alex’s hair, the other around his back, they both stayed still and silent on Valhalla’s rooftop. On intuition, Magnus’ lips brushed Alex’s forehead—breathed him in, exhaled a burst of warmth to stave off January just a while longer.

“You know, you don’t have to have student debt to sell your art.” Alex didn’t answer, and Magnus took that as permission to continue. “We’ll set you up an Etsy. Maybe an Instagram account. No need to go school for that. You’d probably disagree with any college professor you met anyway.”

Alex snorted another genuine laugh, and Magnus knew things would be okay. Not perfect, not fixed, not close to resolution, because the hurt and confusion associated with a premature death were not so easily put off. But for now, here, things would be good.

“You’re not alone, right? I entertained the idea of going to school for history at some point. I used to watch college lectures on YouTube when I missed going to school.”

Alex pulled back, just enough to look at Magnus’ face to make sure he wasn’t joking. “You,” Alex placed a hand on Magnus’ cheek, “are a _huge_ nerd, and I’m embarrassed to be dating you.”

“Sure thing, Fierro.” Magnus pressed a kiss to Alex’s exasperated expression. He wasn’t expecting for Alex to respond, but he did, pulling Magnus back in, and there was that magnetization again. They pressed closer, that same intertwining affection, and at another point in their lives it would have been suffocating, but there was plenty of space and air to spare on Valhalla’s impossible rooftop. Alex’s hands wandered, finding home on Magnus’ hips. Magnus grinned into the kiss. Somehow, impossibly, Alex still tasted of citrus.

**Author's Note:**

> hello, thank you for reading! I started writing this pretty much immediately after finishing Ship of the Dead about four months ago, and I finally got it finished. title taken from lyrics from "A Youth Written In Fire" by Snow Patrol, whose latest album is still my Magnus/Alex soundtrack. I've got another ten unfinished MCGA fics lounging in my google docs, waiting to be written, so be on the lookout for those.


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